


worth it

by youcouldmakealife



Series: between the teeth [55]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8229725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “I’m not sure what that kiss meant to you,” Jake says. “If you wanted — if it’s just sex or me being familiar or whatever for you, that’s totally fine? I get it. But if that’s the way it is, I don’t think I can — I really can’t do anything casual with you, it’d literally kill me.”
David’s not — he doesn’t know what that means, whether that’s —
“Well, not literally,” Jake says. “I would probably not literally die.”





	

David wakes up before his alarm despite the fact he’d had trouble falling asleep. Five hours of sleep is wholly inadequate, even if he’ll just be on the sideline during the skills competition, so he tries to go back to sleep, but it’s a lost cause, since he just ends up thinking about Jake. He doesn’t know if the nausea he’s feeling is nerves or excitement, but either way, falling asleep isn’t an option.

He gets up and orders room service instead, finds it waiting for him outside the room after he’s showered and dressed. He eats it mechanically, not really noting the taste, and the nausea worsens. He keeps looking at his phone, which has no texts, didn’t when he woke up, didn’t the first time he looked during his meal or the fifth, and it’s that more than the food that makes David feel ill. 

It’s not — Jake’s probably asleep. It’s early, he likes sleeping in and there’s no reason for him not to. David resists the urge to send a text while he eats. It’d seem — eager, or something. Pushy. He reminds himself of that, but once he’s finished his omelette, with nothing to distract him from his phone except the muted morning news, he can’t resist the urge, and finally texts _When did you want to talk?_.

He forces himself to put his phone on the bedside table, flips through channels, trying to find something more distracting than CNN. His phone buzzes within a minute, and he practically launches himself over to it, finds a reply from Jake saying, _can i come by?_

David hesitates.

_prob not a public convo_ , Jake sends after, _but if ur not comforble w that its ok ill figure out a place_

_Sure_ , David sends back, because Jake does have a point, and it’s not like there are a lot of — or any — other places private enough. David’s not exactly sure _what_ it’s going to entail, but whatever it is, it isn’t anything but private. _Come over when it’s convenient._

He starts straightening up his room so he isn’t tempted to fidget or maybe call Kiro panicking during the rare uninterrupted time with Emily, but he’s only managed to put his room service out and make the bed by the time there’s a knock on the door.

“Um,” David says when he opens it.

“Now was convenient,” Jake says. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” David says. “Come in.”

“You know we don’t have to leave the hotel until this afternoon, right?” Jake asks.

“Yes?” David says.

“You look,” Jake says, gestures toward David. “Snazzy,” he says finally.

“Thanks,” David says. “You, um.” In contrast to David’s dress shirt and slacks, Jake’s wearing a t-shirt and sweats, so the word ‘snazzy’ can’t really be applied. He looks comfortable. Soft. “You look good,” David settles on, because he does. He always does.

“Thanks,” Jake says. “I’m just going to — mind if I sit?”

“That’s fine,” David says, and pushes down a thread of disappointment when Jake takes the sole chair rather than the bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed closest to Jake so he’s not hovering awkwardly over him.

“Okay, I spent like forever practicing this,” Jake says. “Do you mind — can you let me get it all out before saying anything?”

“Okay,” David says, wary. That sounds — generally if you need to practice saying something, it’s not an easy thing to say. Generally it’s also not an easy thing to hear.

“So, like, last night,” Jake says, and David can’t suppress a wince. “I wasn’t expecting that, I really just walked you back so I could let you know I missed you and I’d really like us to be friends.”

David’s heart drops. “Oh,” he chokes out.

“No seriously, let me get it all out?” Jake says, and David nods, jerky, looks down at his hands, which he’s unconsciously balled into fists. He forces himself to unclench them, flattens them against his thighs.

“When you kissed me,” Jake says, and David shuts his eyes, “that was like — I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been waiting for that? Or, I mean, not waiting, that makes it sound like I’m a total creep. Jesus, Jake, you practiced this how many times? Hoping. How long I’ve been hoping for that.”

“I fucked up really bad,” Jake says. “Telling the guys about you when you weren’t ready. I was stupid and selfish and I made you feel shitty and betrayed and that’s the last thing I ever want to do. And I’m not asking you if you’ve forgiven me, or even asking you _to_ forgive me. I knew you didn’t want them to know. And I’m really happy that you’re telling people now, that you feel okay letting people you trust know you’re gay, but I know that has like zero connection to what I did and doesn’t make it less awful and that I may have fucked up having a serious chance with you for good, and I get that. And I’m really sorry I did that to you.”

David finally manages to look at him, and Jake blows out a breath, laughs nervously. “I’ve been waiting to say that for a long time,” Jake says. “Um, minus the kiss part, I had a lot less practice for that part. Obviously.”

David’s mouth tips up, but that’s about all he can manage, because everything’s —

“I’m not sure what that kiss meant to you,” Jake says. “If you wanted — if it’s just sex or me being familiar or whatever for you, that’s totally fine? I get it. But if that’s the way it is, I don’t think I can — I really can’t do anything casual with you, it’d literally kill me.”

David’s not — he doesn’t know what that means, whether that’s —

“Well, not literally,” Jake says. “I would probably not literally die.”

David huffs out a choked laugh, more a shaky breath than anything, and Jake gets up, hesitating before putting a hand lightly on David’s back and sitting down beside him when David leans back into the touch.

“I didn’t tell my teammate I was—” David stops, but if he can’t say it to Jake, who knows it more intimately than anyone, there’s no one he can say it to. “I didn’t tell him I was gay.”

Jake frowns. “I thought — what’d you say, then?”

David looks down at his hands, twists his fingers together. His heart feels like it’s in his throat. He knows that’s not — that’s not possible, but there’s no other way to describe the nauseated, frantic pounding, the way it feels like it’s choking him.

“Take your time,” Jake says, when David stays quiet, and that’s what spurs David to speak.

“I told him I was in love with you,” David mumbles to his hands.

“What?” Jake asks. “Sorry, I—”

“I told him I was in love with you,” David says, louder. He’s still looking down, avoiding meeting Jake’s eye, so he’s caught off guard when Jake kisses him. Jake’s always been — careful, he usually kissed David soft and slow, at least at first. This isn’t anything like that. Jake doesn’t start slow, or gentle, it’s too much from the start, an overwhelming crush of his mouth against David’s, one hand tightening around David’s bicep hard enough to vaguely hurt. It’s all David can do to hold on, raising an unsteady hand to curl around the back of Jake’s neck, anchoring him, anchoring Jake to him.

It doesn’t — it’s hard to say it escalates when it feels like it started on full throttle, but David supposes it counts as escalation when you’re trying to remove clothing blind, you can’t catch your breath and you don’t care at all, because nothing’s worth stopping.

Jake does pull back eventually, but considering it’s for about two seconds and involves kicking his sweats off and pulling his shirt over his head, David can’t complain, at least not before Jake’s kissing him again.

“Why are there so many buttons,” Jake complains against his mouth, and David laughs giddily. 

“Sorry,” he says.

“If you stop to fold these I swear to god,” Jake says, working on David’s shirt. 

David probably should fold them, but there’s — he brought extras. He always brings extras. And right now it’s not the top of his priority list. They work together, David getting his cuffs undone while Jake fights his belt, and his slacks end up crumpled at the end of the bed, his shirt slipping over the edge, David unresisting when Jake moves to straddle him, push him to horizontal.

“So you don’t get any ideas,” Jake says.

“Folding ideas?” David asks.

“Exactly,” Jake says, and honestly David’s currently more interested in getting Jake’s underwear off, so he applies himself to that instead, kicking his own underwear off when Jake gets off him.

David hasn’t gotten off with someone else in — fuck, it was three years ago, Jake’s mouth hot around him, David staring dazedly at the ceiling with the taste of Jake still heavy on his tongue. Between that and the fact that it’s _Jake_ , David’s practically on a hair trigger, already leaking over Jake’s fingers when Jake wraps a hand around him, painfully hard already from — it wasn’t even foreplay, it was making out and stripping, it’s mortifying. Jake doesn’t seem amused, though, eyes dark, cock hard against his belly, mouth red and wet, and that’s — David did that, that’s because of David.

David gets a hand on Jake’s ass, tries to pull him in. “Will you—” he tries when Jake’s eyes flick up to meet his, and Jake gets it, weight settling against David, taking his hand back so his cock rubs up against David’s, dry, then a little slicker after Jake spits in his hand — that’s gross but David honestly could not give less of a fuck right now because it’s still too dry but it’s _better_ , a slow grind, too dry, Jake on him, heavy, Jake’s lips slack against his when he meets his mouth. It maybe takes David a couple minutes to come, and that’s if he’s being generous.

“Sorry, sorry,” David says, eyes screwed shut in mortification.

“Oh my god, please don’t be,” Jake says. “Can I jerk off on you?”

David opens one eye. “Yes?” he says.

“Awesome,” Jake says, jerks off using David’s come as lube which is — David obviously cannot get hard but he can absolutely tuck that image away, Jake with his lip caught between his teeth, cock dark and hard and slick, Jake’s grip tight and gaze flicking everywhere, as intimate as touch, before finally meeting David’s eyes, steady eye contact until his eyes slip shut and he comes hot against David’s chest, his stomach, adding to the mess David made of himself.

He stays there for a moment, chest heaving. David reaches up, touches his hip, his thigh, and Jake gets off him then, flops onto his back beside David.

“We were going to talk,” Jake groans breathlessly.

“We did talk,” David says.

“I talked. You told me you loved me and then I basically jumped you,” Jake says. “There wasn’t a lot of talking after that. I mean, other than about buttons and jerking off.”

David goes red, or. Redder. He’s obviously already flushed, but excitement, exertion is quickly overlaid by embarrassment.

Jake rolls onto his side, chin digging briefly into David’s shoulder before he turns his head to drop a kiss against David’s skin. “I am too, you know,” Jake says, and when David frowns at him, “In love with you.”

“Oh,” David says.

“I know that’s like the most obvious statement in the world, but,” Jake says.

“It isn’t obvious,” David says.

Jake laughs. 

“What?” David asks.

“Some people would probably disagree,” Jake says. “Hell, Georgie picked up on it in like, a couple hours. I’d say that’s pretty obvious. Also pretty sure Volkov’s been laughing at me for months.”

“Kiro laughs at everyone,” David says. “He likes to laugh.”

“I noticed,” Jake says kind of flatly.

“You don’t like him,” David says.

“I don’t not like him,” Jake says.

“You call him Volkov,” David says. 

“Well,” Jake says. “That’s his last name.”

“You never use last names,” David points out.

“Okay,” Jake says. “I’ll admit I was maybe, like — okay, I was kind of jealous when I thought — it just kind of looked like —”

“Like?” David prompts.

“I don’t know,” Jake says. “Like, this is stupid, but you were just — you look really comfortable with him, or whatever, and every time it’s like ‘okay, so there’s no way David’s not in love with him’. I told you it’s stupid, I’m sorry.”

“I mean,” David says. “I do love him. Not like—” It’s too much to say it again.

“Not like that?” Jake asks.

“Not like with you,” David says. “But he’s — he’s my best friend.”

“I’m glad,” Jake says quietly. “That he’s your best friend, not the — I’m cool with him, I swear.”

“Good,” David says. “He’s — important. To me.”

“You’re going to make us shake hands or something, aren’t you,” Jake says, not even a question.

“I can’t make you do anything,” David says.

“You’d be surprised,” Jake murmurs.

David doesn’t know how to respond to that, at least verbally. The wash of warmth through him probably isn’t the right one, but it’s also not one he can help.

“I’m gross,” David says, which isn’t exactly relevant, but is definitely accurate.

“Nu uh,” Jake says.

“I’m covered in semen,” David says. 

“It’s hot,” Jake says, and when David frowns. “Okay, fine, I’ll get you a wash cloth.”

“I didn’t ask,” David calls when Jake disappears into his bathroom.

“You implied,” Jake calls back, and returns with it after a minute, crawls back into bed while David swipes drying come off his chest, stomach, a splash over his hip. 

“There’s some on your neck,” Jake says.

“How?” David asks.

“Probably my bad,” Jake says. “Not sorry.”

David runs it over his neck. “Good?” he asks.

“Hot,” Jake says.

“You said I was hot when I was messy,” David says.

“You’re always hot,” Jake says, then when David frowns at him, because that’s unhelpful, “You’re all good.”

“Thank you,” David says. He should get up, throw the cloth in the sink, but he’s reluctant to move, so instead he just puts it carefully on top of his dress shirt, since he won’t be wearing it regardless.

“Come here,” Jake says, and David’s like maybe half a foot away from him, but he inches closer until Jake’s shoulder brushes his.

“Okay, I definitely planned on talking with more clothes on,” Jake says. “But this was…good, right?”

“Yeah,” David says. “This was good.”

“I think this was obvious but I want to make sure,” Jake says, which David appreciates, because more likely than not, whatever he’s about to say wasn’t, at least not to David. “I want to be with you. Like we were. Or, not like we were, exactly, more — I’d like to be your boyfriend. Again. If that’s okay with you.”

David swallows. 

“If that’s too fast or you want to think about it or—” Jake says.

“No,” David says. “That’s. It’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Jake asks.

David nods.

“Okay,” Jake says. “Um. Awesome. That’s —”

“Awesome?” David asks.

“So awesome,” Jake says. “You might not know this but I am like, jumping up and down right now.”

“You’re lying down,” David says.

“In my head,” Jake says. “I’m jumping up and down in my head. And dancing. Terribly.”

David laughs.

“And you have like the greatest laugh I have ever heard and oh my god, I’m shutting up,” Jake says.

David’s laugh gets tangled up with a yawn.

“Want to take a nap with me?” Jake says. “Talking’s exhausting.”

David would argue that there were more…physically intense activities this morning, but honestly, talking _is_ exhausting, and he could use a nap. Still —

“Isn’t there fan stuff?” David asks.

“Not until this afternoon,” Jake says. “And I didn’t really sleep well, so.”

“Me either,” David admits.

“Nap?” Jake asks.

“Okay,” David says, then leans over the bed to grab his underwear.

“No,” Jake whines, looping an arm around his waist. “Come back.”

“I’m just getting my underwear,” David says.

“Definitely come back, then,” Jake says, actually putting some of his strength behind the tug, and David lets him reel him back in until Jake’s a long, warm line of skin against his back. It’d be soothing if David could ignore Jake’s soft cock pressing against his thigh.

“Are you talking about a nap, or a ‘nap’?” David asks.

“Nap,” Jake says through a yawn of his own. “I’m totally up for blowing you in the shower after our nap, though.”

“Jake,” David complains.

“Just planning ahead,” Jake says.

“You’re distracting me,” David says.

“Sorry,” Jake says, then presses a kiss to David’s hair. “Real nap.”

“Thank you,” David says, reaching down to brush his hand over the back of Jake’s. Jake lets go of him long enough to grab his hand, tangling their fingers. 

“I missed you like, a crazy amount,” Jake murmurs when David’s starting to drift, lulled by the heat he gives off.

“You too,” David admits, soft.

“And I’m going to go back to Florida and miss you like, a crazy amount,” Jake says. “Which sucks. But that’s okay.”

“Is it?” David asks.

“Well,” Jake says. “Maybe not okay. But. It’s worth it.”

It’s increasingly impossible to suppress the likely stupid looking smile on his face, but it’s not like Jake can see it. And, honestly, Jake probably wouldn’t call it stupid he did see it, even if it was. “Jake—” David says after a minute.

“Napping now,” Jake murmurs sleepily.

“It’s worth it for me too,” David says, and honestly, he thought it would be harder to say, but. It’s easy.


End file.
